


Jealousy (and Other Bad Decisions)

by Vrunka



Series: Mistakes [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Homophobic Language, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pre Blackwatch era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9118828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: Gabriel Reyes makes a series of Really Bad decisions.





	

It happens two days before their anniversary.

Maybe that's why Gabe is so blindsided by the whole thing. Maybe that's why he takes it as personally as he does.

It's two days before their three year anniversary--four really because Gabe counts the time dicking around in SEP basic, hands down each other's shorts, hands clamped sweaty over each other's mouths.

Gabe has already bought the rings.

Bought them weeks ago at a jewelry store in Italy. It was during a mission. A complete lapse of protocol.

But Gabe had done it anyway.

He'd had to guess at Jack's ring size. He just knows how Jack's fingers feel, folded against his own.

The rings live like a secret in the top drawer of his dresser. Matching bands. Plain gold. Nothing fancy.

But they're military, the don't need fancy.

Don't need anybody but each other.

So when Jack comes back to their room on base and he's beaming, Gabe is only a little rocked.

"You didn't tell me," Jack asks, grinning. Sliding the door closed behind him.

They could have asked for separate barracks years ago, like Ana or Reinhardt did, but they haven't. Sharing quarters follows the natural progression of their relationship.

It only makes sense Jack would find the rings before Gabe could propose. It's not exactly like he's done anything to really hide them.

Gabe swallows.

"Wanted it to be a surprise," he says. Sitting up. He doesn't get far off the cot.

Jack practically hops into his lap. Hands on Gabe's shoulders, knees to either side of Gabe's hips. He's pressing hasty kisses to Gabe's cheeks, against his lips.

He's so damn happy and it makes Gabe feel warm all over. Gabe brushes his hand down Jack's side, fingertips tight against the muscles there.

"I love you," Gabe says, craning his neck back just enough to catch Jack's gaze. "I'm not just saying that because I--"

Jack makes a face, comic, twisting little expression. And Gabe's breath catches.

"This is a yes, right?"

Jack blinks. A momentary blank across his face. No more than a second, a twitch of his lips. Then he's smiling again. "Of course I said yes."

Said yes.

Of course.

The two statements fire different places in Gabe's mind. His breath catches again, too high in his throat. A completely different feeling this time.

Like a yawning, dreadful opening.

Said yes.

Jack doesn't seem to notice the sudden panic flaring in Gabe's touches, Gabe's hands shaking on his flanks.

"I love you, too," he's saying, just a little off-handedly. "But I really hope you didn't write that in the recommendation." He laughs, a chuckle, warm and bright against Gabe's cheeks.

Recommendation.

Gabe doesn't know what the hell Jack is even talking about.

But he's good at recovery.

So he just smiles and says, "Course not. So who...told you?"

"Reinhardt. They came to me officially about two hours ago," Jack bites his lip. Rolls his hips against Gabe, a smooth motion. Pressing down in all the right places.

"So," he says. Pink lips against Gabe's ear, just a little bit moist from the attention. "How would you feel about getting fucked by your commanding officer?"

He means it as a joke.

Gabe can understand that much.

But it doesn't taste like one when Jack follows the question up by biting Gabe's ear. Teeth against the lobe, rolling his tongue around the sensitive flesh.

Gabe looks up at the ceiling.

Commanding officer.

Strike Commander.

Jack?

Gabe swallows around whatever he was going to say. He doesn't even know, his emotions are too spread out within him.

Strike Commander Jack Morrison?

He should be happy for him. He should be fucking thrilled.

But they've been drilling Gabe for that promotion for months.

Jack leans back, Gabe's lack of reaction registering. Gabe can see it in his face. The question mark. Jack Morrison the open book.

"You okay?"

"I'm," Gabe doesn't know the answer to that. "Sure. I'm...fine."

He's not fine. He's drowning. His emotions are a solid thing, blocking up his windpipe. He can't breath past them.

Jack makes another face, frowning. "You good for this or..." he trails off, hips still shifting restlessly in Gabe's lap. "I thought you'd want to celebrate with me."

"I...do," Gabe says. It isn't a lie. He wants to. Just the other way around. It should be his celebration. It should be him. It should be them. Two days.

He glances over at the dresser.

Guilty.

He can't help it.

Jack follows his look. His confusion still so evident. "Earth to Gabriel Reyes," he says, "we lose you somewhere, buddy."

"I'm just not," Gabe swallows. "Not feeling so great right this second."

"Something you ate maybe?"

"I dunno."

Jack tucks his hands behind Gabe's head, fingers lacing, palms calloused and familiar against the cropped hair there. "Well then," he says, smiling again, "the celebration can wait. Don't want you losing your lunch all over me in this high point of my life right?"

Another joke.

Said lightly.

Clearly a joke.

High point of his life. Singular. Alone. Gabe blinks. Nods.

"Of course. Maybe...tomorrow. The next day. We can get wine. Do it right."

He already has the wine. Hidden in the kitchens. Tucked away where no one would find it.

"Two days from now?" Jack cups his own chin, calculating.

Gabe waits for him to say it won't work. That two days from now is their anniversary. It's already a special day. There's nothing else they need to celebrate.

Instead, he says, "That works for me. No assignments coming up. I'm gonna have to move some stuff into an office. Can you believe that? My own office." Jack rolls his head. Stands off of Gabe's lap.

Gabe, still feeling numb, the aftershocks of it settling in his limbs, just nods.

"That's crazy."

"Isn't it? I mean I didn't even know they were considering me for the position. I thought there were people way more qualified than me."

Gabe bites his lip. Hands curling on his knees. Jack crosses the room to his own cot. Begins to shed his clothes onto it.

"But you accepted the job?"

Jack looks over his shoulder. Tossed little grin. "Of course. Would be out of my mind not to right?"

"And those other, more qualified people?"

Jack pauses, shirtless, considering. He is holding a tank top between his hands. He pulls it slowly over his head. "I dunno," he says finally. Laughing just a little bit. A chuckle under his breath. "Guess they weren't really all that qualified if I got picked instead. Plus I have Ana and Reinhardt's letters of recommendation."

He turns, scratches his nose. "And yours, of course."

And Gabe's.

Of course.

Gabe holds his hands out, gesturing inward. Jack licks his lips. "Thought you weren't feeling good. I don't want you giving whatever it is to me," Jack says with a laugh.

He comes over anyway though. Fingers brushing under Gabe's eyes. Palm rubbing Gabe's goatee. The scar on his cheek.

"I don't think it's contagious."

"You'd better be right, asshole."

"Can I suck you off?"

Jack grins, nose scrunching. "Do you have to ask? I always want you, Gabe, however you'll give me." He curls his hand to rub his knuckles over Gabe's lips. "If you think you're good for it." Jack swallows, smile widening. "Was kinda looking forward to hearing you call me sir though."

Gabe pretends that doesn't dig into him the way it does. Kisses Jack's knuckles. Each scarred and calloused stretch of skin. It doesn't ease the hurt like it should.

It feels better to shove Jack's briefs down his legs. To hear Jack suck a sharp breath in between his teeth. A little more gratifying.

Jack is half-hard already.

One hell of an optimist.

Plus super soldier stamina.

Gabe kisses Jack's thigh, sighs against the skin there. Heavy musk. Jack is looking down at him. Gentle.

It's easy to pretend everything is the same as it was when Jack left this morning. Easier than maybe it should be.

Gabe opens his mouth, takes just the head of Jack's dick between his lips. Presses against the spongy head with the flat of his tongue.

Jack groans, low and appreciative. Fingers curling over Gabe's scalp. The hair there shorn too short to really anchor, but Jack makes do. He cups the back of Gabe's head, pushes him to take Jack's cock just a little deeper.

"God," Jack says, his voice is thick and slow. Drawing. Slightly accented with his arousal. "You look so good like this, Gabe."

Normally the praise would send shivers down Gabe's spine, normally the praise would be welcome. But this time Gabe just wants Jack to shut up, to stop talking, because everything he's saying reminds Gabe about the promotion.

Jesus, its bad. He doesn't want to feel this twisting, unbelievable jealousy. He hates it. But it's there regardless.

He forces his throat to relax, swallows Jack down until there's nowhere left to go. He can barely breath past Jack's cock, but he could barely breath past his emotions anyway.

And at least this way, Jack shuts up.

Or mostly.

"Gabe," he is saying, one hand bracing on the wall behind Gabe's head. One leg lifting, bending at the knee to give Jack enough leverage to thrust lightly. "Gabe," he says again. "Oh God, Gabe."

Gabe's throat protests the abuse, the movement Jack has taken over so that Gabriel can focus on remaining relaxed, on not fucking choking. He wraps his tongue around Jack's length, feels surge of bitter salt precome on the back of his palette. He sucks air through his nose, closes his eyes. Bobs in a shallow counter-rhythm to Jack's gentle motions.

"I didn't know you could take me this deep," Jack says. He sounds reverent. His eyes are the endless blue of oceans and poets.

Gabe cannot meet his gaze for very long.

His throat contracts, sudden, jarring loss of control, emotions curling tighter in his gut. Just a momentary slip, but it's enough. The fluttering of his throat, trying to cough, unable to cough, is enough to make Jack pull back. Gabe hacks, thick and wet, into his own fist.

Jack is holding his own cock. Watching. Lip trapped, pink and shiny, between his teeth.

"You good," he asks, soft and careful.

Gabe coughs again, for good measure. Nods. He doesn't take his time this time, just swallows until he is nuzzling in the coarse blondish brown hair between Jack's thighs.

He lets Jack control the pace.

Control.

The word is like poison. Repeating itself endlessly, echoed in the usual quiet of Gabe's thoughts.

Strike Commander Morrison.

But here, now, he is just Jack. He is and always will be just Jack. Won't he? Nothing has to change.

"Gabe, I'm--"

The panting golden boy above him, sweating and gentle even when he's fucking Gabe's face, Gabe's throat.

"So close, Gabe. Baby, I'm--where--" Jack is babbling. The motions of his hips sharper. The tensing of his thighs. This is the man Gabe loves.

The man Gabe wants to marry.

They can work past the Strike Commander thing.

It doesn't have to change anything.

Gabe pulls his head back, hands raising to replace where his mouth had been, hardly letting a moment pass before he's stroking down the slick length. Jack shudders in his grip, Jack's dick twitches in between his palms.

And then Jack is coming.

"I love you," he says, curling over Gabe, lips ghosting over Gabe's temple. "Jesus Christ I love you." He slumps in Gabe's grip, half-suspended by the arm he still has pressed against the wall.

Gabe's licks his lips. Wipes the slick from his palms onto his own fatigues. They'll have to be washed anyway, it's no matter.

"Do you need a hand?"

He shakes his head. "Did it for you," he says, only half of a lie. "I'm good."

Jack grins. He's taking it to mean congratulations. They need to discuss this. Gabe closes his eyes.

"Hey," Jack says.

"Yeah?"

"I know it's..." Jack trails off, probably blushing. He has brought his weight to bear on both knees. Gabe can feel the shifting of Jack's weight in his lap without needing to see what Jack is doing.

Gabe opens his eyes.

He was right about the blush.

"I know they're private but...can I read the letter you wrote?"

Gabe swallows. He debates just saying no, letting it die at that. Leave it to Jack to want to stroke his own goddamn ego. Instead he leans his forehead against Jack's shoulder.

"I...I didn't."

Jack is grinning, he doesn't get it. Gabe rolls his head, cheek rubbing against the fabric of Jack's tank top, pulling the collar out of place.

"What?" Jack says. Like it's a joke.

"I didn't write one. They never...nobody asked me to."

Jack leans back, hand on Gabe's shoulder, sitting them both up straight. Jack, Jack the open book. Confusion tangling across his expression now.

"Why wouldn't they? You didn't write one?" He shakes his head, the corners of his grin only falter just slightly.

Gabe looks down at their laps. The stain of Jack's come on his pants. The light golden hairs on Jack's upper thighs. He rubs his thumb in a circle there. Watches the skin raise in gooseflesh where his finger tracks.

"Gabe," Jack says. Sharp. Authoritative. "Would you talk to me?"

An order, almost.

Strike Commander Jack Morrison.

Gabe swallows around the bitterness. Looks up to match Jack's stare. "I didn't write a letter of recommendation, Jack. I..."

Wouldn't have.

Is what he wants to say. But he can't. The words catch behind his teeth. He lets his breath out in a hiss.

"But you...I mean." Maybe things, this whole encounter, is beginning to click; Jack makes a face. Lips pulling into a pout. Thinking. Connecting the dots. "I guess it doesn't matter," he says, shrugging. "Just means they still don't know how important to me you are."

He's off point. Gabe has misread the situation for a second time.

Jack smiles again. Like the sun. Blinding. A knife gouging at Gabe's eyes. "They may not need your opinion, but I know you've always got my back, Gabe."

And the knife twists.

Gabe shudders. Leans his head back on Jack's shoulder.

He loves him.

He's jealous.

It's all twisted up and wrong.

What better time is there?

"Lemme get up," he says.

Jack, looking confused again, does just that. Slips off Gabe's lap to sit at the edge of his bed. Bare feet scuffing against the floor.

Gabe crosses to the dresser.

The rings are where he left them. Nondescript box, black and satin and plain.

Jack is watching him, doe-eyed, silent.

Gabe licks his lips. He doesn't really know what he's doing here. Something stupid, probably. Playing this out in his head--after dinner, two days from now, romantic and sappy and all that shit he secretly likes--has been shattered.

He clears his throat.

Jack isn't even wearing any pants.

Christ, this is actually the worst timing.

"Jack, I," Gabe starts. Belatedly, he realizes he'd always imagined this on one knee. Some blushing someone standing before him, one hand clutching their throat, one hand cupping their mouth. He never really imagined Jack at the other end, the gestures too distinctly feminine for him.

He gets to one knee anyway.

Jack's eyes are saucers, huge, ridiculous things.

"Holy shit," Jack says. His hand covers his mouth, fingers curling into themselves. Maybe not as distinctly feminine as all that.

"Jack, I don't even know what to," Gabe says, rolling his shoulders. He'd planned what he was going to say, but those words have left him. He can't remember a single one. "I know that...that with who we are we can't," Gabe swallows again.

"You're not doing this," Jack says. He's pinching the skin of his thigh with his free hand. "Gabe, please."

Gabe shakes his head. "Just shut up a minute, okay, Jack? I just. I know we can't be together like the way these rings would normally represent, okay? I know that. And I don't. I'm not really sure why I even..."

He's usually more eloquent than this. Gabe bites his lip, glares down at the rings, shaking in his grip.

"I just...I would marry you, Jack. They can be damned if they--I wouldn't care, we could scream it to the world."

"Jesus Christ."

"Jack."

"Gabe. Are you serious?"

Gabe doesn't see how he could be anything but. Down on one knee, blushing like he's a fucking virgin all over again, like he's about to get his dick sucked for the first time or some shit. He rolls his shoulders.

"Yeah," he says, frowning. "I'm serious. Would you marry me?"

The hand on Jack's mouth has migrated to across his eyes. His cheeks are a shade of red Gabe is pretty sure rivals his own.

"Holy fucking Christ," he mutters. "Jesus shit, Gabe," he drops the hand from his eyes.

He isn't smiling.

Isn't ecstatic.

None of the things he was when he came into the room a little over an hour ago.

Gabe can feel his breathing again, catching in his throat, squeezing and awful. He sinks to his other knee. Lowers his hands to his thighs. The box between them trembles.

"Gabe," Jack says, reaching forward, hooking his hand around Gabe's shoulder. His tone is edging desperate, profoundly sad. "Gabe...I...I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes, asshole. Save us both the embarrassment."

"Gabe," the admonishment is clear, Gabe's name said over a huff. "This is just really, really bad timing." His fingers squeeze in emphasis. Really. Really.

"Bad timing?"

"I'm getting promoted, Gabe. Me. Strike Commander."

Like Gabe needs the reminder. Like this proposal was about Jack and Jack alone.

"There's gonna be so many people watching me, Gabe. Just looking for anything to tear apart, you know. A stumble, a mistake. Weakness."

Gabe looks up at that, glaring.

"Weakness?"

"You know what I mean. I didn't mean it like that."

"I thought we were stronger together. You've said that, more than once."

"Yeah but...I didn't. Anything, Gabe, anything they can use. And I wouldn't...put it past them to use you. Use this...us."

The ever great and mysterious Them. Gabe has heard mention of Them from the top brass as well, the political heads of the UN. They won't like this, They want to see that. They're not sure with your temper how even you'd be, Gabriel Reyes.

They'll tear you apart, Jack Morrison, for being a fag.

Gabe bites his lip. The words are so close to slipping out, sharp and poisonous. His hurt and anger rolling together. Repeating themselves in the hateful words he's had thrown in his face time and again.

And here Jack is, doing it again. Softer maybe. Coming from a place of love maybe.

Or self defense.

"So you're saying no?"

Jack makes a helpless gesture. His mouth is open; he closes it. "Gabe."

"Don't Gabe me, Jack. You're saying no?"

"Yeah," Jack says, shaking his head. His hands are trembling on his knees. He looks utterly torn and Gabe longs to feel bad for him, he does.

Because he gets it.

But he gets it, and that's also why he can't.

"Gabe, I--"

"Don't, Jack. Just...for once in your life, don't."

Gabe is still on his knees. The sting of tears is hitting him, right in the nose. Sharp pressure in his sinuses.

But he's not going to cry in front of Jack.

Jack, Jack, the one person he could always trust.

"Nothing has to change, Gabe," Jack says. It sounds as weak as Gabe feels.

Everything is already changing.

"I wanted it to."

Jack has the decency to look guilty at that. Bright red blush across his cheeks and down his neck. "I know you did," he says, finally. He licks his lips. "Maybe we can just...wait. A year, maybe, let me settle. Let them get used to it. Once I'm established then..."

"So I'll just be your side fuck until then," Gabe says.

"It's not like I'm seeing someone else," Jack bites, just as sharp. The first hints of anger, seeping in at the edges. "Christ, Gabe, it's the fucking promotion of a life time we're talking about here."

"Your fucking lifetime. I wasn't apparently included in this upgrade."

It isn't fair. Gabe is being cruel and vicious and cutting and mean. But he's quickly realizing the foundation he had thought so sturdy is not in fact so grounded.

Jack touches his cheek.

Gabe pulls out of his touch with a hiss.

"Gabe, please."

"Stop. Just stop it, Jack." Gabe pulls himself to standing.

There is a bottle of wine, tucked away in the kitchen.

It's starting to look like a pretty good proposition.

He pivots on his heel, toward the door. Come stain on his pants and everything. He doesn't give a shit.

The rings in their box are still clutched in his hand. He tosses them onto the desk. It could be a more vicious throw. But Jack winces anyway when it clatters against the wood and pops open. One ring has worked free of its cushioning. It lies on the desk, gold and plain. Catching the light.

"Gabe," Jack says. He sounds miserable. "Did you want me to say no?" He pauses, licks his lips. "To the promotion, I mean."

Gabe clenches his hands into fists. "Would you, if I asked it?"

Jack seems to consider, his eyes narrow. Tongue swipes across his lips again.

"No," he says with finality. "I wouldn't."

Gabe bites his lip. It doesn't help decrease the sting of the words, not really, not much.

The wine then. A bottle to himself.

Happy fucking anniversary.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who made it through this. I'm not exactly sure what I was going for here.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments, needed tags, anything like that just hit me up here or let me know on tumblr @vrunkas. Thanks guys!


End file.
